Dancing with Snowflakes
by Samuraiko
Summary: Tales of love and honor as ephemeral as the snow, and as eternal as the stars. Chapter 20: Along the long, winding roads of the Empire, a perfect summer hour is shared by a man, a woman, and a child, while enlightenment is sought in the form of a story.
1. Dancing With Snowflakes

_This poem (a series of 12 haiku) came out of a letter a friend of mine sent me about an image she called 'the epitome of Nasami.' In keeping with my story 'The Sword of the Soul', here is Nasami with the samurai of Samurai 7. I leave it to you to decide which samurai it is._

* * *

**_Dancing with Snowflakes_**

A woman in white  
With eyes like evening twilight  
And hair like the snow

Dancing with her sword  
Moving through ancient kata  
With elegant grace

Absolute focus  
Her mind is one with the sword  
Like part of her soul

Snow drifts around her  
Frail and fragile winter flowers  
That die as they fall

Her blade passes by them  
Carving patterns in the air  
While she dances

And yet, never once  
Does her blade touch a single  
Snowflake as it falls

* * *

His sword remains still  
But behind that stoic mask  
His heart is pounding

Eyes dark with passion  
He watches her as she moves  
Graceful as the snow

His body trembles  
As she glances toward him  
And slowly smiles

It is a challenge  
For this dark sad samurai  
He moves toward her

Then he kisses her  
His mouth as gentle and soft  
As a snowflake's touch

She sighs into him  
And lets her katana fall  
To the snowy ground


	2. Poem to a Water Priestess

_Author's Note: After writing 'Dancing with Snowflakes' about Nasami and... well... form your own opinions, I went back and watched Volume One of SAMURAI 7, and was struck yet again by the look on Katsushiro's face as he holds Kirara's hand and they stand and gaze at one another. So for all the Kirara/Katsushiro fans... here's my own retelling as a tanka (5-7-5-7-7)._

* * *

**Poem for a Water Priestess**

I have held her hand  
with danger all around us  
absolute chaos  
but in that madness all I felt  
was the warmth of her soft touch

_sweet village priestess  
__who speaks with a voice as soft  
__as a gentle brook  
__her soul, as deep as the sea  
__can her heart ever be mine_

into the water  
she gazes with distant eyes  
yet she does not see  
how so very much I wish  
to see what makes her smile so

_can samurai love  
__can a man without a lord  
__ever win a girl  
__born of a peasant village  
__with the grace of an empress_

for her I would fight  
not for rice or for pity  
but for a woman  
who speaks to the water gods  
and whose smile can lift my heart


	3. Unspoken Love Song

_Note: this whole thing came out in a single rush of writing. Earlier today, I was watching the newer opening credits and was profoundly struck by that image of Kambei sitting in the moonlight (that's what I say it is, anyway), intense and proud and very controlled. But how would he react if someone ever got past all those barriers? And so 'Unspoken Love Song' was written..._

_And to all of you who have made 'Dancing with Snowflakes' a favorite story, thank you... with all my heart._

* * *

**Unspoken Love Song**

Even here in the darkness, I can sense her. Not ten feet away from where I sit here by the door, staring out at the stars. White hair glimmering in the blackness. Her sword sparkling in the faint light of the fire. Her face softened by sleep, the guarded tension that she wears like a cloak dropped as she slumbers.

She murmurs something faintly in her sleep as she turns to one side, facing me. It's as if she knows I'm looking at her, watching as she smiles in her sleep. I wonder what she dreams of here in the darkness, what pleasant thoughts curve her mouth.

I turn back and sip at the sake I hold in my hand, savoring its sweetness as relaxation settles across me, and watch the stars wheel across the sky.

Without looking at her, I know her features intimately. I have watched them for three nights now, my secret pastime as I stay awake, fighting off sleep and the dreams it brings. I have imagined tracing them with my hands, wondered how her skin would feel beneath my touch, her hair as it tangles around my fingers. But in keeping away the nightmares of my past, I find myself confronting a new obsession.

A woman with hair like the snow, and eyes like evening twilight.

She murmurs something again, her hands reaching out in her sleep for something I cannot imagine. Her fingers open and close slowly, then she settles down again, curling up on the pallet like a child.

Does she even know? Can she sense the weight of my gaze as I trace every scar, every line and curve of her face?

My hand tightens on the cup as I tear my eyes away from her again, and I throw back its contents in a single swallow. I pour myself another cup, and watch the stars again as one falls from the sky in a brilliant flash.

This is absolute torture, and I cannot help it as I deliberately turn my head away to not look at her as she sleeps. But my mind will not let me rest, filling my inner vision with memories of her face. Rarely have I seen emotions so clearly displayed in a samurai's eyes, but everything that she is can be found in those dark blue depths.

I draw my legs up to my chest and turn my back on the workshop, but even now, her soft sigh catches my attention, and I wince.

I pour a third cup, and try to plan our upcoming war, calling to mind the rough map of Kanna, imagining defenses, fortifications, battles…

… a woman in the courtyard, with only her scars and her tattoos to cover her.

Damn.

"Are you all right?" I turn, startled at the whisper, my hand instinctively reaching for my katana, not realizing I have spoken aloud.

She is awake, leaning on one elbow as she peers at me in the darkness. Her voice is soft and faintly raspy from sleep, and my heart is suddenly pounding in my chest. I can see her hair flowing loose around her, for once freed from its foxtail, and it drapes across her shoulders like a shimmering layer of snow.

"I am fine," I reassure her, but my fingers tighten on the sword at my side where she cannot see.

Even in the dim light, I can see her eyes narrow, and it is clear that she doesn't quite believe me. She slowly rises and pads her way across the workshop with her faintly limping gait, careful not to disturb any of the others as they sleep. I watch her move, as graceful as a reed, and she approaches me to stand in the doorway, drawing in a deep breath of the fresh night air.

"What troubles you?" she asks quietly as she stands over me. Her eyes are on the stars, and I know that she is judging the time, determining the hour, then she looks down at me.

I turn my eyes away before they betray me, nearly gulping down the sake, and it stings as it spills down my throat.

She sits beside me, plucks the cup from my fingers, and pours herself some sake. Lifting her cup to me in a toast, she sips delicately. Then she sighs.

"Would it help to talk?"

It would help to kiss her until she had no breath left but to whisper my name. It would help to whisper everything I want to do into her mouth. It would help to draw her into my arms, feel her burn beneath me as I lose myself inside her.

It would _not_ help to tell her any of this, so all I do is shake my head.

So we sit in silence, her watching the stars, me watching her. The moonlight caresses her features, casting her eyes and hair in silver. It feels like forever, the two of us sitting side by side, and my only coherent thought is that she is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life.

She finishes the sake and sets the cup down beside me, making to rise. Then she stops, and reaches out to take my hand. Even through my gloves, the heat of her fingers is nearly scorching, and the hand holding the katana trembles so hard that I'm afraid the sword will start rattling.

Her eyes meet mine, dark blue and silver in the moonlight, and I cannot look away from her. The blood is roaring in my ears, so loud that I am certain she can hear it. Her lips part to speak, but her breath catches in her throat, and the words do not come.

Then she stands and slowly moves back inside, stretching out on her pallet with her back to me. I pick up the cup and pour some more sake, but do not drink. My other hand cramps from clutching the sword so tightly, and I force my fingers to unclench. My breath comes out in a shuddering sigh, and I swallow hard and close my eyes, trying to relax.

I look back into the workshop and see her lying there, so different from before. The tension is evident in every line of her body, and even if I could see her face, I know there is no innocent smile as there had been before as she slept. At last, I hear her breathing become slow and regular, and I know she has fallen asleep.

But as she turns over again, I see that even as she sleeps, she is silently crying.

I throw the cup across the cobblestones with a whispered curse and rest my head in my hands.


	4. Death Comes To Kanna

_Note: Another Samurai 7 poem told in haiku, inspired by a poem in a _Doctor Who_ novel, believe it or not! (For those who care, it's the_ Doctor Who _New Adventure_ _Sleepy, by Kate Orman.) What I wanted, really, was to embody WHY each samurai fights, what they bring to this battle... and what they will lose. As always, read and review!_

* * *

**Death Comes to Kanna**

Farmers watch in fear  
Their young priestess stands and prays  
As the bandits come

Amid the chaos  
Stand the peasants' champions  
Seven samurai

They stand tall and proud  
The swords in their hands gleaming  
Their eyes shining bright

One barely a man  
The innocence in his eyes  
Lost in flames of war

One filled with laughter  
For him the world is a stage  
Death, the last great trick

One of cold metal  
But within that cage of steel  
A samurai's heart

One, once a dreamer  
Left behind a girl who waits  
Even as she weeps

One ruled by the sword  
The perfect strike his only love  
Living just for death

One of cheerful smiles  
A man of proverbs and rice  
Hands unstained by blood

One who has lost hope  
Wanders the world in despair  
Honor forgotten

They are not alone  
With them, a samuraiko  
Trapped in a legend

Eight samurai watch  
Eight samurai raise their swords  
Eight samurai strike

Their screams taint the air  
Death stalks through Kanna Village  
Blood covers the rice

Today there is death  
Today the reign of terror ends  
Today the bandits fall


	5. Whispers in the Darkness

_Note: Another poem inspired by Kate Orman's work, this one much more closely following the structure of her poem in SLEEPY. The lines that haunt me the most from her poem are: "She never asks them for anything / but they bring her roses and souls." I'd give anything to be able to write like that..._

_This poem was inspired by the various romantic relationships seen in SAMURAI 7 - Rikichi and Sanae, Shichiroji and Yukino, Katsushiro and Kirara (and in my own story, THE SWORD OF THE SOUL, Kambei and Nasami)._

* * *

**WHISPERS IN THE DARKNESS**

as sharp as a sword  
the pain of desire fills me  
yet I make no sound

and I stare into the darkness  
seeing only her face

the pain of desire fills me  
as sharp as a sword  
yet I make no sound

she graces me with smiles and peace  
a gift that cuts even as it heals

and I stare into the darkness  
seeing only her face

she dances through my dreams  
as burning bright as a phoenix in flight  
turning my resolve to ashes

yet I make no sound  
the pain of desire fills me  
as sharp as a sword

if only she knew how my heart yearns for her  
but I will carry this prayer of love in silence

as sharp as a sword  
the pain of desire fills me  
I silently scream her name

and I stare into the darkness  
seeing only her face


	6. Kindred Spirits

_Note: This idea actually came from my husband. I hate it when he has better ideas than I do, but it was too good not to use. What surprises me, however, is how few people seem to get who the speaker is here... _

_The song that this was written to, oddly enough, is the music from the Image Gallery on the Volume 1 DVD of the anime SPIRAL._

* * *

**Kindred Spirits**

I come from a long line of distinguished artisans, born of the Emperor's command.

From the moment of my birth, I was not alone… my twin sister was with me, and together we would protect our Clan, our Empire, and each other.

When the time was right, I traveled and fought beside some of the greatest samurai of our Clan, but my true strength and will never surfaced.

The song within my soul remained silent for a long, long time.

Finally, my path and my sister's crossed that of two samurai, a brother and sister so alike that they might also have been twins.

A young man, barely seventeen with the fire of honor in his soul, and a girl of sixteen summers, with eyes like the evening twilight.

And that is when I encountered _her_ for the first time.

At that meeting, I knew that my true destiny was at last at hand.

With her, I could attain the greatness that others had before me, and become a legend, even as she did.

My sister and her brother were united, an alliance sure to bring glory to our ancestors.

But when I saw _her_, I knew that she and I shared a future as bright as the stars and as dark as the night.

And since that moment, I have always been with her.

I have traveled by her side across the Empire, through the lands of all the Great Clans.

I have fought beside her as she and her companions battled those who would bring death and darkness to the Empire.

I have meditated with her in the lush gardens of court, drinking in the stillness around us and the scent of cherry blossoms on the spring winds.

I have been her comfort as she stood on the battlements and wept at the news of her beloved brother's death, and my sister's return to our ancestral hall.

I have practiced with her in the snow, weaving and dancing among the snowflakes, as graceful as a crane in flight.

I have charged into battle by her side as she screams her righteous anger at the skies, calling upon her ancestors to watch her win glory and honor in their name.

I have saved her life time and time again, and she has never failed me.

I have protected her as she slept, and she has honored me with every step she takes.

I have sung my song of battle, and she lends her voice to the song, clear and strong and full of life.

I was with her when the first glimmerings of enlightenment touched her thoughts and her soul.

And as it was destined to be, she held me close when my true power awoke, and as my newfound strength filled me, I knew it raced through her.

The people of the Empire tell the tales and sing the songs of a woman who rides where the winds take her.

They tell the tales and sing the songs of her eternal companion… _my_ songs, and _my_ tales.

Our names are now entwined in the legends of the Empire, so that one will never be known without the other.

She is Nasami, now known as Sasuraitsuru, the Wandering Crane.

And I serve her as I have served no other before her.

Ever vigilant, ever watchful.

As a Defender should be.


	7. Love Poem from a Geisha

_Note: I don't know why, but I feel a much stronger affinity for Yukino than I do for Kirara. And this came out all in a rush while I was at work listening to the score of MEMOIRS OF A GEISHA. The image I wanted here is of her sitting in the courtyard like Shichiroji and Kambei do before the patrol shows up, just sipping her sake and writing this poem as the fireflies flit around her. It doesn't quite have an exact rhythm, but it still flows well, I think. Of course, it wasn't until_ after _I finished it that I realized what it reminds me of - the Loreena McKennitt song "Night Ride across the Caucusus". Please R&R!_

* * *

**Love Poem from a Geisha**

_there is laughter, there is light,  
and fireflies dance and glow in his wake  
there is strength, there is warmth,  
when the lamp light twinkles on the steel of his hand_

_there is food, there is drink  
as we feast and celebrate the goodness of life  
there is hope, there is love  
in the blue of his eyes_

_there is music, there is dancing,  
as we circle like cats and burn brighter than stars  
there is peace, there is stillness,  
when as we sit in the moonlight_

_there is sorrow, there is emptiness  
as he follows the fairy tale  
there are now only shadows  
where my lover should be_


	8. The Assassin's Song

_Note: I had to do it eventually… we've got Kambei, we've got Shichiroji, Nasami, Katsushiro, it's time for Kyuzo. What struck me most profoundly is how absolutely he lives his life. He knows his role – assassin. And as the old saying goes, "The assassin sees only throats and hears only heartbeats." He brings death without hesitation, mercy, or remorse. But what would happen if once… just once… _

_He doubted? _

_The music for this story is an excerpt from the score of the film CRIMSON TIDE. (PM me for the link if you want it.)_

_

* * *

_

**The Assassin's Song**

_Where there is light, I bring shadows_…

The moonlight was clear, its touch silvering everything with a faint caress, gilding the world in a mysterious stillness – the fields, the river, the waterfall, the homes… but there was one thing that the moonlight could not reach.

_Where there is life, I bring death_…

He stood poised, stilling every muscle, quieting his breath, calming even his heartbeat until he seemed carved from marble. The shadows flowed over him until he seemed as insubstantial as they.

_Which is more dangerous_?

Somewhere in his mind, he was aware of sound – the creak of the water wheel, the wind in the trees, the crashing rumble of the waterfall. But for him, there was only one thing that truly held his attention.

_The threat that you can see_?

The only motion, barely detectable but for the faintest of chimes, came from his swords. They hung motionless in the air, but they sang their siren song for movement, for power… for death.

_Or the threat that you can't_?

He had stood that way for minutes… hours… days? He had been standing like that forever, perhaps. The tension and ache in his muscles were like old friends, things he had become so accustomed to that he almost didn't notice them. Almost.

_I hear only your heartbeat_…

It was said that swords held the spirit of the smiths who forged them. A sword forged by a peaceful man would turn even a leaf away rather than pierce it, while a sword forged by a violent man would turn on anything, even its wielder, in its relentless thirst for bloodlust.

_I see only your throat_…

He wondered idly what sort of man would forge a sword that felt nothing.

_Your fate belongs to me_…

The song of the swords grew louder, the hum now perceptible in the night air, calling to him, urging him on. His soul had echoed that song with each death, had tasted oblivion with each life he had sent flashing into the darkness.

_Your life belongs to me_…

One face loomed above all in his mind, the obsession that taunted him awake each morning, and dragged him into sleep each night.

_Your soul belongs to me_…

At the thought of him, the katanas' song rose in pitch, vibrating in his grip as though he held an electrical wire, its power coursing unstoppably through him.

_I am Death made carnate_…

With an almost palpable shock, he saw him, as though the thought of him had summoned him like a spirit. Standing at the edge of the woods, hands at his sides, sword sheathed. His only movement was the rustling of his robes in the night breeze, his hair idly blowing around his shoulders.

_I ignore the weight of a thousand souls_…

All at once, his hands shook, and the song of the swords in his mind seemed to be screaming his name, howling for death. But now the only heartbeat he could hear… was his own.

_But how can I kill you_…

For an eternity, they stood and stared at one another. They knew what it would mean if they truly faced one another. This time, there would be no postponement, no escape, no reprieve. Only one would survive.

_When you give my life purpose?_

He clenched his teeth until his jaw ached, his muscles tensed to the point of agony, adrenaline sweeping through him… and yet he hesitated. And in that moment, everything changed.

_I may be your death_…

His breath hissed out as silently as wind on water, and slowly, he lowered the swords, their song fading away. The flame in his eyes dimmed, and he leaned back wearily against a tree as the other man turned away, disappearing into the woods.

_But you are my hell_.

Alone in the shadows, his swords at his sides, he closed his eyes and let his head fall back. Then the clouds parted, and a shaft of moonlight fell on his face, as the wind caressed his tears away.


	9. The Vow

_Note: I realize it's been a while since I published a DANCING WITH SNOWFLAKES story, so here's the latest one! This one was inspired by the Stabbing Westward song, "Haunting Me." I defy ANYONE to listen to that song and not just feel it fill your soul with an incredible longing. I'm also aggravated as all-get-out because I can so imagine a video to this, but I can't animate. _

_Can you believe I've written nine of these, and this is the first Nasami-POV story? Wow..._

* * *

**The Vow**

Awake.

With a gasp, I open my eyes, certain that I will see my chambers at my parents' home when I do. But all I see are low rafters and rough wooden walls. There is no scent of gently blooming violets, only the earthier smell of burning pine.

And I realize I was dreaming. Dreaming of a time when I was still young, innocent, and idealistic.

I'm not even certain what woke me, as the last fragments of my dream slip away like sands through an hourglass. All I can remember is the feeling of a hand in mine, a strong hand, with long graceful fingers and a firm grasp. I quickly glance around the room, but all of the samurai are asleep - all except Shichiroji, who is currently out on guard duty.

It is so warm in here, with so many of us in the same room, and the fire still burning brightly even now, so late in the night. I shift beneath my blanket and stare up at the rafters, but I can't seem to get comfortable.

I close my eyes again. Fifteen years since my _gempukku_, and I still remember it like it was yesterday. The Clan daimyo was there, a special honor out of respect for my parents... my _sensei_, for once not glowering at me... my parents, my brothers and sister smiling...

My older brother beside me, as the daimyo handed us our swords, and a new generation took possession of the katanas _Sememasu _and _Mamorimasu_.

My forearms tingle slightly with the memory of the tattoo artist's needle bringing glorious colors to life on my pale skin.

On that day, we swore to uphold the traditions, values, and honor of our Clan.

But it was something I had said... something else I had promised... that comes back to haunt me like a ghost that can find no solace.

My vow.

* * *

"_I swear to defend my house, my family, my Clan, from this day forth and forevermore_..."

* * *

Wait... 

My mind slowly registers the fact that the sensation of someone holding my hand is real... not just the memory of a dream.

Then I glance over to my right, where Kambei is sleeping on the pallet next to mine. He looks so much younger as he sleeps, the lines of anxiety and stress fading from his face.

And I see that he is holding one of my hands in his own, even in sleep.

* * *

"_I devote myself, body, heart, and soul, from this day forth and forevermore_..."

* * *

I can feel the heat of his fingers through his gloves, burning as hot as if I'd stuck my hand into the fire. A blush sears my cheeks at the idea that I had reached out in my sleep to take his hand. 

Or did he reach out for mine?

I roll onto my side so that I can face him, and study him intently, the way I never can while he is awake. I let my eyes wander over his high cheekbones, full mouth, strong features, surprisingly long lashes on a man.

Then his eyes open partway and his half-closed gaze meets mine directly. In an instant, I realize that for once, the walls are down, my guard has slipped, and he is staring straight into my soul. So much that I keep hidden is laid bare before him in a single moment.

Respect. Trust. Affection.

Desire.

Oh, _God_.

* * *

"_My heart will remain pure, my body chaste, my spirit true, from this day forth and forevermore_..."

* * *

I swallow hard, but I cannot look away. His mouth curves subtly into a smile, and my heart stops in my chest as his fingers tighten on mine. 

Is he even aware of what he's doing?

Then his eyes drift shut again and his grip loosens.

I carefully pull my fingers free and rise, trying not to trip over the others sleeping on the floor. It is a struggle to raise the bar over the door without making noise, but I finally lift it free and open the door, then flee outside.

* * *

For a while, I just walk, letting the night wind cool me. 

"Nasami-_dono_?"

I glance to one side and see Shichiroji standing in the shadows, looking concerned.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, I just... couldn't sleep. Dreams..."

"I know how that feels... you just stare into the darkness for hours on end wishing you could just let it all go." His face becomes somber for a moment, then he brightens again. "It's a nice night. Want to walk with me?"

I nod, and fall into step beside him.

"Care to talk about them?" he asks after a while.

"What?"

"Your dreams... would you like to talk? It might help."

I wrap my arms around myself. "I was... dreaming about home. The day of my _gempukku _ceremony."

"Anything about it in particular?" He glances at me, and I realize that this man is a lot more perceptive than people give him credit for.

"Yes, actually," I admit.

"Ahhh, I think I understand now."

I look at him, surprised. "You do?"

"Mm-hmm. If memory serves, samuraiko generally take a certain vow the day they come of age, correct?"

He _does _understand. "Yes, they do."

"And you did as well."

I nod.

"Didn't that get you into trouble all those years you were traveling with other samurai? Or even now?"

"I never did anything that violated that oath," I muse softly. "And my word has always been unquestioned."

"So why worry now?"

"I..." I wave my hands helplessly. "I've never been... tempted to before now."

And oh, how it hurts...

Shichiroji stops in his tracks and turns to look at me, but I can't meet those blue eyes.

"So I guess then the question is, what's stronger?" He stares at me intently. "Your honor... or your heart?"

"That's not fair," I whisper, clenching my hands so tightly that my fingernails pierce the skin, and blood slowly trickles from my palms.

"But that's what it all comes down to in the end, Nasami." Shichiroji steps closer, and places his hands on my shoulders. "When the time comes... which will you choose?"

Thoughts race through my mind so fast that I can barely concentrate.

_My vow_...

A man who sees not only the legend, but the woman behind it...

_My honor_...

Lonely days and lonelier nights...

_My name_...

The warmth of a hand holding mine...

_My life_...

Tears shed alone in the darkness...

My voice catches as I speak, trying to hold back tears that I don't even realize I am weeping. "I... I don't know."

* * *

Later. 

I have walked with Shichiroji for what feels like hours, and finally we find ourselves back at Rikichi's small house. I carefully let myself in, weave my way across the floor, and stretch out once again on my pallet. Shichiroji kneels and gently shakes Heihachi awake, as it is the mechanic's turn to keep watch.

The fire is lower, and shadows dance and flicker along the walls in time with the flames.

Kambei sleeps soundly, as all soldiers learn to do. I rest my head on my pillow and just watch him again, even as the tears fall and blur my vision.

How can I throw away a lifetime of integrity?

How can I _not_?

And as I let myself fall back asleep, I reach out and take his hand.


	10. Master Your Sword, Master Your Self

_Note: It's been a while since I've written a 'Dancing with Snowflakes' story, hasn't it? And I knew I had to do it eventually. Enough people have asked, and so I thought, 'what the hell.' And it felt good to have him make an appearance, if for no other reason than to drive Katsushiro crazy. The only way I could have made things even more aggravating was to write this about Kikuchiyo instead of Katsushiro, but this isn't really him... but I have to admit, the thought did my cross my mind to have this about Kyuzo. Now THAT would have been entertaining!_

_The song I was listening to while writing this was "Sleeping Sun" by Nightwish (they are my latest addiction - went from 'who the hell are they' to 'top five favorite bands'. But now I think about it... I wonder which of the characters that it refers to... hmm..._

_**Update**: My copy of the SAMURAI 7 score arrived today, and it is fricking FANTASTIC! Oh, to the myriad of deities who heard me praying for this thing to get here, thank you... I will make my offerings later this evening!_

* * *

**Master Your Sword, Master Your Self**

Katsushiro stood by the river, going through the kata that Nasami had taught him, rigorously practicing and drilling until his body ached and his breath caught in his chest. Again and again he went through the routine, struggling to find his rhythm.

_Stand one foot slightly in front of the other, prepared to draw_.  
_Draw in a single slash, keeping the feet still_.  
_Pull the sword back, and support the blade with your other hand_.  
_Bring the sword back to center, and your feet together_.  
_Raise the sword over your head, and attack from above_.  
_Draw the sword back to defend over your shoulder_.  
_Slash around and upward to disarm, then straight down once more_.

Over and over, he practiced, his breath coming hard, sweat covering his forehead, but still he trained, trying to toughen his body and his resolve before the bandits arrived.

"You are trying too hard."

Katsushiro whirled around, katana in hand, and saw a man standing nearby. His head was nearly completely shaved, except for a long samurai topknot. Scars lined his face, and his grey traveling clothes were well-worn and tattered. But in his obi he wore a katana and wakizashi of fine quality, and slung across his lower back was an enormous no-dachi. Everything about his demeanor was calm, almost serene, but with a remarkably focused energy.

"Who are you?" Katsushiro stammered, taking a defensive stance. "And what are you doing here?"

The ronin tilted his head to one side as though considering the questions, and for a long time said nothing. Then he shrugged. "Tell me, what is a name but that which you call 'you' and I call 'I'?"

"Answer me!" Katsushiro shouted, and the ronin blinked.

"I did."

Katsushiro gritted his teeth, trying to hang onto his patience. "And what are you doing here?"

"I am watching you."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

With a growl, Katsushiro raised his katana, but the ronin only smiled, and suddenly the younger man stopped. As surely as he stood there, he knew that if he attacked, he would be dead before his own blow ever landed, and he lowered his katana and bowed his head.

"Ah, the beginnings of wisdom," the ronin said approvingly, and he gestured to the katana in Katsushiro's hand. "Show me your stance."

"What?"

"Show... me... your... stance," the ronin said, enunciating each word as though speaking to a child, and Katsushiro went cold. For a moment, he was not standing in the sunlight beside the river, but was instead in a shadowed courtyard behind Masamune's workshop, facing Nasami. She had challenged him with the exact same statement before training him, teaching him what it meant to be samurai.

Slowly, he shook his head to clear it, and then took his stance.

The ronin walked around him, studying him from every angle.

"Not bad... but you still hold your sword as though it were separate from yourself. Sheathe your weapon." Katsushiro did so, and the ronin drew his own katana and took Katsushiro's exact same stance. "Now tell me... what is different?"

At first, Katsushiro didn't know what to say. How could an unknown ronin, who had never met him before, so easily duplicate what he had trained years to accomplish? But then he realized that the ronin was still waiting patiently for an answer, and so he studied him carefully. It was eerie at how well the ronin had copied even his body language.

"I... I don't see anything different," he said at last.

"Exactly," the ronin said quietly, sheathing his blade. "Now watch."

This time, when he drew his katana, Katsushiro took an instinctive step back as though pushed, recoiling from the almost palpable intensity coming from the ronin.

"Why did you step back?" the ronin asked, a faint smile around his mouth.

"You moved forward," Katsushiro replied.

"No, I did not." With one foot, the ronin drew a line in the soil and carefully placed both of his feet behind it. "You see my sandals."

Katsushiro nodded, and with that, the ronin demonstrated once again. And again, Katsushiro stepped back, feeling his personal space invaded as the ronin moved.

"Did I step forward?"

"Yes-" Then Katsushiro stopped and looked down at the ronin's feet. They were still behind the line he had drawn. "No..."

He looked up at the ronin's dark eyes. "But how?"

"It is all intent. Every action must have a single pure intent behind it. Even something as simple as drawing your sword must be done with all of your focus, until eventually it requires none of it."

"I don't understand," Katsushiro said faintly.

"Attack me."

"_What_?"

The ronin remained silent, and swallowing hard, Katsushiro drew his katana and attacked. But even as he moved, the other ronin drew his wakizashi in his left hand.

"Two swords," Katsushiro whispered, freezing in one place, his green eyes enormous in his face. "If you have truly studied the same technique as Kyuzo-_dono_, then there is no way I can hope to defeat you."

The ronin shook his head sadly. "It is your attitude, not your swordsmanship skills, that defeats you, before you ever draw your sword."

Katsushiro frowned and tightened his grip on his katana, but the ronin sighed and shook his head again.

"And your anger will finish the task that your hesitation has already begun."

"I don't understand you!" Katsushiro blurted out. "Why do you speak in riddles? Why can't you speak plainly?"

The ronin looked at him in surprise, as though amazed he would have to ask. "Why should I, when you would not hear no matter how I spoke?"

With that, he sheathed his daisho and bowed slightly, then turned to walk away. But then he stopped, and glanced back over his shoulder.

"Give Nasami-_san_ my greetings when you see her again."

"Wha-... N-Nasami-_dono_? You know her?" the younger man said, shocked.

The ronin nodded, then left. Katsushiro was so stunned that he never thought to follow.

For hours, he stood beside the river, his katana hanging slack in his hands as his mind went over what the ronin had said.

"Katsushiro?"

He glanced up, and there was Nasami approaching from the woods. She stopped at the look on his face. "Are you all right?"

"There was... a strange man here. Dressed like a ronin. He... talked with me a while... but I didn't understand much of what he said."

She frowned. "A ronin here? Who was he?"

"He never gave his name. But... he wielded two swords like Kyuzo-_dono_, and always seemed to speak in riddles. He had a no-dachi at his back, in addition to his daisho, and his face was heavily scarred. And then he said to give you his greetings..."

Then he stopped, for Nasami's face had gone as white as her hair.

"No," she whispered. The young man glanced down, and was astonished to see the samuraiko's hands clenched into fists, even as her whole body trembled. "It cannot be..."

"Nasami-_dono_?" Katsushiro asked, his face full of concern as he cautiously put his hand on her shoulder, but she shook off his hand and turned away, her head bowed as she shook from the force from some emotion that Katsushiro could not even guess at. At last, Nasami tilted her head back to stare up at the sun, even as tears spilled down hercheeks, but then sheturned to him and gave him a smile filled with such sadness it made him want to weep.

"Do not... worry about me, Katsushiro."

"But who was he, to upset you so?"

"A man I once... knew," she whispered, and all at once, she seemed very young, and yet very, very old. "A samurai..."

Then her voice broke, and she closed her eyes and swallowed hard, then opened her eyes again and stared off into the distance.

"By the name... of Mirumoto Kuroshin."


	11. I Know Them So Well

_Note: It's been a while since I've done a "Dancing With Snowflakes" chapter. This one was actually inspired by listening to the musical "Chess" (for those who say they've never heard of it, I'm willing to bet most of you know the song "One Night in Bangkok," which is the first track on the CD). Three songs blended together to form this poem - "IKnow Him So Well," "Endgame," and "You and I."_

_The three samurai are Kambei, Nasami, and Kyuzo. From the start, they have always formed this triangle in my mind, and I wanted to bring that out in a story. However, I couldn't quite get the flow I wanted in prose, so I turned to poetry instead. Like "Whispers in the Darkness," each section echoes the previous one in structure and words, showing the similarity in their situations. Each one tells of how s/he sees the other two, especially in how they relate to each other._

* * *

**I KNOW THEM SO WELL**

_**KYUZO**_

So different, yet so alike  
He flees from his past  
while she embraces her future  
Though he longs to deny honor  
to deny it is to deny her  
Though she aches to deny desire  
to reject it is to reject him  
She is the dance of my swords  
He is the song of my blood  
I love them both, need them both, hate them both  
They are my torment  
They are my existence  
A samurai who longs to be a woman  
a man who longs to be samurai  
And so they speak, while their hearts remain silent

_**KAMBEI**_

So alike, yet so different  
She is the champion of life,  
he, the bringer of death  
Both devoted to the blade  
their loyalties only to their swords  
He is the stillness of the stars  
She is the brilliance of the sun  
I hate them both, love them both, need them both  
They are my challenge  
They are my inspiration  
And yet, he is the reminder of her past  
and the destroyer of her future  
But she has already defeated me,  
turning his victory to ashes  
And so they fight, while knowing they cannot win

**_NASAMI_**

They are the same  
They are samurai in a world of merchants  
They uphold honor when honor means nothing  
They see only the path upon which they walk  
They live only for the moment of death  
One is my past  
One is my future  
I need them both, hate them both, love them both  
They are the echo of my heart  
They are the answer to my questions  
And so they kill, while never understanding what it means to live


	12. The Greater of Two Evils

_Note: While the majority of the "Dancing with Snowflakes" collection is poetry, every now and again I get the urge to do one in prose. And I haven't done one for Heihachi yet, so..._

_And before I forget, I owe a nod to Reiya Inc for her story "Purge," whose version of events I liked so much for Heihachi's background that I got permission to reference them here._

_This conversation is set just before the arrival of the Nobuseri in Kanna._

* * *

**The Greater of Two Evils**

Heihachi sat quietly on the ballista crossbeam, staring off into the distance and enjoying the momentary quiet one evening, when he became aware of a presence nearby. Glancing down, he saw Nasami leaning against one of the support beams, patiently waiting for him to notice her.

"Nasami-_dono_! How long have you been waiting down there?"

"Not long," she replied with a faint grin. "Mind some company?"

"Not at all." He waved her up and she carefully began to climb. "But be careful not to slip."

"Trust me, Heihachi-_san_, if I can rock-chimney down a crevasse filled with snow, I can climb a ballista." Eventually, she reached the crossbeam and took a seat beside him. "Oh, and before I forget... here." She pulled two riceballs from the folds of her robes and handed him one.

"You are a life saver," he said gratefully, munching on the riceball. "So how's the training with Shino coming?"

"Not bad for a peasant girl," the samuraiko admitted, taking a bite of her own rice. "And thank you again for the naginata. She learns remarkably quickly. Of course, we won't know how much she's actually learned until the Nobuseri arrive, but at least she'll be more ready than she would have been. I see you've nearly got the ballista finished already... don't you ever sleep?"

"Oh, I get in the occasional nap now and then," he replied, swallowing the last of the rice with an appreciative sigh. "We have so much to do, though, and so very little time to do it. But sometimes, you just need to sit, you know? Let your mind be at ease?"

"Mmmmm." The samuraiko cautiously leaned back and let her head fall back, staring at the stars that were slowly beginning to twinkle into existence over their heads.

For a long time, neither of them spoke, content to sit quietly and watch the stars come out.

"By the way," Heihachi said at last, not looking at Nasami, "if you don't mind me asking... why did you say that 'none of us are truly innocent?'"

"Because no one is," Nasami replied quietly. "It's what makes us human. But what makes us honorable is how we deal with making mistakes."

"Don't tell me that you betrayed someone?"

For a long while she said nothing, but in the end, she nodded. "Yes... yes, I have betrayed someone."

Heihachi was absolutely stunned. All this time, he had held Nasami up in his mind as one of the ideal samurai he had ever been privileged to meet.

As though reading his thoughts, Nasami turned to him with a sad smile. "No one's perfect, Heihachi... not you, not me, not Kambei, no one."

"Is that why you weren't angry that Manzo betrayed you?"

"I never said I wasn't angry," she remarked. "I was furious when I found out... furious, disappointed, afraid, hurt. But a part of me understood... and who's to say what lengths one of us might have gone to if we'd been in the same situation?"

"I wish I had your capacity to forgive," he sighed. "But I guess that's my karma in this life."

"I never said I forgave him, either. But don't worry, I'm sure there are things that you can forgive more easily than I ever can," she replied. "You may not know this, but I have killed people for betrayal."

"You have?"

"Ever heard of the Battle of Twilight Honor?"

Heihachi's eyes went wide in his face. "You fought in a Shadowlands campaign?"

"Yes." Her eyes were dark with memory.

During the Great War, one of the worst airship battles of the entire war had decimated a huge part of the countryside, contaminating even more of it until the land itself seemed warped and corrupted, the rivers running sluggish black or red with blood. Those who travelled there insisted that the land changed around you until time no longer had any meaning, and that it would chill your soul for the rest of your life. Years later, due to the constant swirling of ash and contaminants, and in no small part due to the rumors of ghosts that haunted the battlefield, that part of the Empire had been nicknamed 'the Shadowlands.' Only the bravest or most foolhardy samurai fought battles there anymore, and the skirmish that later became known as Twilight Honor was one of the worst battles in the history of the war.

"One of the worst battles I had ever been in," Nasami went on. "Four straight days of no sleep, no food, no water, constant fighting, death, filth, absolute hell. We were doing everything in our power to fight, but the enemy just kept forcing us back, so we made them pay for every inch." Her voice rang with pride, but beneath it was an undercurrent of despair. "And then, just when we thought things couldn't get any worse, I... I learned that our commander had betrayed us, and was planning to open the gates of the castle to the enemy. We would have been slaughtered, not a single person left alive if he succeeded."

While she would never admit to anyone, Nasami had seen more than just betrayal in Makasu's eyes that night - she had seen madness. In Makasu's eyes, if no one else's, death would have been their salvation, and he would have done it gladly... except for one thing.

"_You are not opening that gate, Makasu-sama._"  
"_Can't you see, you damned Crane? Are you blind? This situation is hopeless!_"  
"_Only the dead are without hope._"

She closed her eyes and lowered her voice to a whisper. "So I killed him. I offered him a samurai's death to spare his honor, but in the end, my commander died by my blade... and then I took his head back to his lord."

"_I see two things, Makasu-sama... I see a coward in the shell of an honorable man... and I see a gate that stayed closed._"

For a moment, she was silent, then she went on. "I went to his daimyo and offered to commit seppuku for my actions, but I was exonerated, for my actions were to save the lives of all the samurai under my command."

"You know, though, I don't think I've ever seen you angry," Heihachi said thoughtfully. "Not once in all this time I've known you. Well, I remember that you were a bit upset with Kambei-_dono_ about the whole honor thing in Kougakyo, but have you ever really lost your temper before?"

Nasami laughed out loud, startling Heihachi. "Oh, yes. I've gotten so angry that my language alone could have blistered the paint off a torii arch."

"You?" The woodcutter could hardly imagine the petite samuraiko doing such a thing, and at the look on his face, she laughed even harder. "You just seem so... so..." He waved his hands. "Samurai."

Her laughter eventually faded to a soft chuckling. "Thank you, but no, underneath I am still just as human as you."

Heihachi drew his knees up to his chest and looked at her. "So... what would you make you that angry? So angry you didn't think you could forgive it?"

She sobered. "That's easy. Hypocrisy."

The mechanic was startled. "Hypocrisy?"

"I loathe it. It goes against so much of the code of bushido all at once - pride, arrogance, cowardice, dishonesty..." She spat on the ground.

"Yeah, that I can see about you," Heihachi mused. "Honest to a fault, even if you are polite about it." He rested his chin on his knees. "Which would you say is worse? Betrayal or hypocrisy?"

"That's a tough one to answer," she said after a while, closing her eyes. "What would you stand to gain from either one?"

Heihachi thought that one over. "Well... hypocrisy would imply that you were either trying to gain something, or you were trying to hide something. But usually when you betray someone, you're getting something out of it."

"So what did you get?"

Heihachi went absolutely still. "What did you say?"

"You heard me," she murmured without opening her eyes.

"How did you...?" he stammered, his face pale.

"Like I told Kambei-_san_ a while ago at Masamune's, I learned to read people as one would study a text. There is nothing so painful as seeing our own faults held up as a mirror to us through another person. And judging by your reaction to Manzo, I would guess that either you had been betrayed once before in your life, and you now hated all betrayers... or else you had betrayed someone else. And to answer the question you're obviously dying to ask, no, I haven't told anyone." She opened her eyes and looked at him. "So?"

He looked down at the ground. "I was on an engineering team, assigned to a regiment... it was supposed to be easy - blow up the bridge and get out. They made it sound so... so simple." He slammed one fist down into the crossbeam so hard it made the metal plate shudder. "I should have known better, but my team was ambushed. The other three were slaughtered before we even knew what hit us and I... I didn't want to die. I didn't want to die, and all I had to do was point my finger and that was it."

"I don't understand," Nasami said softly, her eyes confused. "You mean that...?"

"The ambush team didn't care about us. They cared about the rest of our regiment and their airship. Where we were sent to blow up the bridge to stop their samurai, they'd been sent to stop our samurai. But they didn't know where the rest of the regiment was. But they didn't need to know... they just had to find someone who did." His voice dropped. "That someone was me."

Heihachi held up his index finger in front of his eyes. "Unbelievable. One finger and a whole regiment was dead, along with our airship."

Nasami was silent, staring off into the distance.

Finally, Heihachi sighed aloud and lowered his hand. "They nearly killed me anyway, then they threw me in the river before going after the regiment. When I awoke, they were dead and I was alive. And I've regretted it every moment of every day since then."

The samuraiko still did not speak, and the mechanic turned to look at her. "So yeah, I hate betrayers... because I hate myself most of all."

"How many?"

He looked confused. "How many what?"

"How many of your regiment died that day?" she asked, still not looking at him.

Heihachi closed his eyes. "Thirty-nine."

Nasami nodded to herself. "I see."

Heihachi stared morosely at the ground, lost in his memories, when he felt a gentle hand rest on his shoulder.

"You know, Heihachi-_san_, there are at least thirty-nine villagers here in Kanna... while ostensibly you joke that you're fighting to protect the rice, you might consider the idea that you're waging this war in the name of redemption. Save the farmers' lives, and you absolve yourself."

For a moment, he considered the idea, but then his face fell. "But how do I make up for what I did? It wasn't just about their lives - because of me, the enemy's position was strengthened, and who knows how much damage I did?"

At last, she turned back to him, and Heihachi was startled at the flame that seemed to burn in her eyes.

"Then when the enemy comes this time, you take this ballista of yours and you take down at least thirty-nine of THEM!"

Then she got to her feet and looked back at the length of the ballista, then down at Heihachi.

"What was it Gorobei-_san_ said to you in Kougakyo?" she asked.

Heihachi smiled faintly. "He said, 'If you die, you lose. If you survive, you win.'"

"Well, I told Makasu-_sama_ that last night of the battle that 'only the dead are without hope...'"

She swung herself down off the ballista, then glanced back up at him. "And you're not dead yet, Heihachi-_san_."

Nasami grinned, a wild smile so full of life that made Heihachi smile in return as he watched her walk away, even as her voice came back to him through the evening mist.

"_You're not dead yet_!"


	13. A Soul of Thunder

_Note: I actually had the idea for this story while on my way to Las Vegas a couple of weeks ago, when I was listening to the "Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King" soundtrack. For some reason, as I was listening to the track "Twilight and Shadow", this little story came to mind. I couldn't get it out of my head, so when I got back, I wrote it down. Enjoy..._

* * *

**A Soul of Thunder**

Outside Kyuden Shiden'issen, a storm was raging. But the one raging inside seemed greater to those who lived within the castle walls.

Shimada Kambei paced anxiously along the length of the Kyuden's vast hallways, trying hard not to worry. But the eta midwives attending Nasami had not been successful in hiding their concern about his lady wife. He knew why they were worried - Nasami was hardly young, her body had seen a great deal of punishment during her years of service to the Empire, and a first child at the late age of 31 would be a strain for anyone.

But when they had first learned of her pregnancy, the samuraiko had cried for joy, sobbing in her husband's arms as his tears mingling with hers. Neither of them had spoken of the risks - risk was something they had lived with all their lives. And Nasami was never one to back down from a risk.

As a concession to her advancing pregnancy, she had cut back on some of her more strenuous activities, such as riding or drilling the students at the castle's dojo. But she still practiced kendo every day, still oversaw the day-to-day management of the Kyuden right alongside Kambei, where he could keep an eye on her. She had even refused to drink sake since the day she had learned she was carrying a child, instead drinking only tea.

And everything went well... at first.

His mouth twisted in a slight smile as he remembered how since learning she was carrying, he and Nasami used to argue in bed each night, because she wanted a son, but he wanted a daughter. Each of them had wanted a baby in the image of the other, and then they would laugh and end up in each other's arms...

But as time went on, Nasami's normally boundless energy began to flag, and her face had become pale, her footsteps dragging. Kambei worried about his wife, but Nasami had laughed at him, stating that her body was just adjusting to this new stress.

For the last week, however, Nasami had been confined to her bed, too weak to do much beside talk. More and more of her duties were taken over by Kambei, and to a lesser degree, her cousin Ikuko, now Nasami's foremost attendant.

And then the labour had started.

Thirty hours later, there was still no end in sight, and Nasami was fading in and out of consciousness the longer it went on. Finally, so frustrated and helpless at not being able to do anything, Kambei had left their chambers and stalked the length of the Kyuden, cursing his own helplessness.

The sound of running feet, however, distracted him, and he turned to see Ikuko sprinting toward him, her eyes wide.

"Kambei-_sama_! Please, you have to come quickly!"

Kambei's heart stopped in his chest. That Ikuko had chosen to come herself instead of sending a servant boded extremely ill, and without bothering to ask, he immediately followed the younger samuraiko back to the main chambers where Nasami was.

The eta midwives had given up trying to hide their concern and were now openly struggling to help their daimyo's wife, but Kambei ignored them all, striding to his wife's side and kneeling beside her.

Nasami's face was absolutely ashen and covered in sweat, but her eyes slowly opened at the sound of her husband's footsteps on the nightingale floor of their bedchamber.

"_Anata_..." she murmured weakly, reaching out one trembling hand, and he took it in both of his.

"I'm here, love."

Her eyes went to the window, where she could see the storm outside. Earlier, she had asked that it be opened, to feel the breeze on her face and smell the rain.

"I'm... so tired. Weak..." She laughed, a hoarse, rasping laugh. "I never thought... I'd hear... myself admit it."

Kambei chuckled and slid an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.

"You're not weak. You're strong, so much stronger than you realize."

Her eyes closed and she sighed, resting her head against his chest. "I need... your strength, love."

"It's yours, as is the rest of me."

"Just hold me... for now."

He did, trying not to think about how his wife's body trembled with fatigue, the circles under her eyes, and how frail she felt in his arms.

"I love you, my husband."

"And I love you."

Kambei had no idea how long he sat beside her, holding her close, giving his strength to her and their unborn child, but then abruptly, a loud crack of thunder outside jolted him awake, and in almost the same moment, Nasami let out a loud cry of pain. Her body arched up, but Kambei continued to hold her, rubbing her back and shoulders, murmuring encouragement to her.

The midwives immediately gathered around her, urging her to push, to summon the last of her strength to guide her child into the world. Nasami's howls of agony sent chills down Kambei's spine, but this time, he wouldn't leave. He held her closer, letting her clutch his hand until he thought it would break, willing every ounce of courage and strength he possessed into her exhausted body.

The thunder seemed to grow even closer, the storm becoming more powerful with each gasp of Nasami's, until it seemed as though the storm outside was a manifestation of her own energy, and that of her child.

In those long, painful moments, neither of them spoke, until at last, one of the midwives gave a joyful cry, and carefully lifted up the baby as Nasami fell back against her bed, completely spent.

Everyone in the chamber held his or her breath, waiting... then the infant let out a loud cry, waving its tiny fists in defiance of the storm outside.

"Your son, my lord!" the midwife holding the baby said, turning to Kambei, while the other midwives tended to Nasami. "A fine and healthy boy, and a spirit to match! What is he to be named?"

Kambei opened his mouth, but then looked down at Nasami, whose eyes were open and resting on the baby as the midwife fussed over him, cleaning him and wrapping him in clean swaddling.

"What should we name him?" he asked her softly.

Just then, the baby let out another wail, and thunder echoed outside.

Nasami glanced up at her husband as he took their son in his arms, marveling at the new life they had brought into the world, and then she slowly smiled, radiant despite her exhaustion and pain.

"Kaminari," she whispered, reaching out to brush the baby's cheek with her fingertips. "His name is Kaminari."

"Thunder," he murmured in approval. "Yes..."

"Kambei..." Nasami's voice was faint as sleep began to overtake her once more.

"Yes, love?"

He caught the triumphant look in her eyes just before they drifted shut.

"Told you so..."


	14. Not Impossible, Just Improbable

_Note: It's become something of an in-joke between me and Motokonobaka that Nasami and Ran keep appearing in one another's stories. Nasami's now appeared in two of hers (_Ken no Ronin _and_ Sun on the Path_), so it's only fair that Ran appears not only in_ The Sword of the Soul_, but now also_ Dancing with Snowflakes.

* * *

**Not Impossible, Just Improbable**

The fourteen-year-old girl growled, her face tensed in concentration.

"I can do this, I _know_ I can do this."

She shifted her grip on the katana, pushed her basket hat back from her eyes, and took up her stance once again. Then she tossed a piece of rice paper into the air and swung her katana at it, but all she managed to do was send the paper kiting away to land on the ground, still intact.

For a second, she stood there staring at the paper, but it lay there impervious to her glare as it had been to her sword.

"ARGH!" she howled, snatching up the paper, wadding it up, and throwing it away angrily.

Then she nearly fell over in shock as an arrow sliced through the air out of nowhere, neatly skewering the ball of paper in mid-flight against a nearby tree.

"Wha-..." For a moment, all the teenager could do was gape at the arrow that was slightly vibrating where it stuck in the tree trunk, then she turned to look over her shoulder, and shouted in frustration, "HOW IN JIGOKU DO YOU _DO_ THAT?"

"Do one thing well, and you can do all things well," came a woman's voice. "You become flustered entirely too easily."

"I am NOT flustered!" Ran yelled, stamping one foot, then she stopped in embarrassment as she heard soft chuckling.

"No?"

Despite her obvious irritation, Ran grinned as a slender figure came limping out from behind a tree, a bow in hand and wearing a wide smile.

"It's good to see that you haven't changed too much, Ran," Nasami said, and the teenager bowed. "Apart from the katana, that is. When did you start carrying steel?"

Ran looked down at the katana she held, and swiftly shoved it back into its saya, her cheeks flushed. "Well, I was..."

"You were trying to duplicate my earlier feat with the rice paper," Nasami finished for her.

"Yeah, so what? I said I'd be just as good as you are some day!"

"Well, it doesn't happen overnight, or even over a period of several months. How go your travels?"

"Oh, I go wherever my feet take me," Ran said cheerfully, taking off her hat and rubbing the back of her head. "A village here, a farm there, thump a few bad guys and move on. You know how it is. Besides, you're hardly one to talk. You're like some kitsune spirit - you're here, you're there, and then whoosh, you're gone. Don't you ever stay in one place for longer than a day at a time?"

"Well, I did spend the entire winter in Kanna Village," Nasami admitted, "but I didn't have much choice."

"Yeah, ten feet of snow tends to do that." Ran pointed at the bow that the samuraiko held. "But that was just so cool! I didn't know you were that good an archer, too!"

"Practice, Ran, lots and lots of practice."

Ran's attention, however, had shifted to Nasami's legs. "Is it my imagination, Nasami-_sama_, or are you limping worse than usual?"

The samuraiko's eyes saddened. "No, it's not your imagination. While in Kanna, I nearly died... as it turns out, my spine and legs were damaged. I was able to learn to walk again, but I don't move nearly as fast as I did before."

"Wha-?" Ran's mouth fell open.

"You look surprised," Nasami said in amusement. "I'm not immortal, you know."

Ran closed her mouth with a snap. "What happened, did a Benigumo fall on you or something? Whatever it was, it must have been huge to take you down!"

"Actually, it was the Capital," Nasami said in an offhand manner, and Ran scoffed.

"Yeah, right."

"Fine, don't believe me."

"You're good, Nasami-_sama_, but even you can't be that crazy. The only thing less likely than you stopping the Capital all by yourself would be..." She cast around, trying to think of the most unlikely thing possible. "Oh, I don't know, something patently impossible... like you getting married."

Nasami arched an eyebrow, and Ran suddenly realized how her statement must have sounded. "Oh, no, no, no, no, no, I didn't mean to offend, it's just that... well, it's kind of hard to imagine that... you would... you know... well..."

"Fall in love? Settle down?"

"Yeah," Ran muttered, blushing beeet red and staring down at her feet. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."

"No, it's all right," the samuraiko reassured her, lightly resting her hand on the teenager's shoulder. "Trust me, after so long of hearing people saying what they think others want to hear, a little honesty is refreshing. Just be careful about when and how you choose to be honest."

"I will. But seriously, how did you get injured? I mean, the Capital didn't really fall on you, did it?"

"Actually, it did," came another voice, and both Ran and Nasami turned as a tall samurai clad in white with long brown hair approached. "Nasami faced down the Capital to stop it from reaching Kanna, with some help from our late friend Kikuchiyo."

"Not to mention a handy earthquake," the blond samurai trailing behind him remarked. "But I guess that's what happens when you have divine favor on your side."

"You disappeared so abruptly that we wanted to be certain you were all right," the dark-haired samurai said to Nasami, who shrugged slightly.

"You worry too much... I can take care of myself."

"I know." For a moment, the brown-haired samurai and Nasami just gazed at each other, while the blond samurai met Ran's gaze and rolled his eyes in obvious amusement.

"Who are they?" Ran asked, looking at Nasami in confusion.

"Kambei, Shichiroji, this is Ran."

Shichiroji smirked, recognizing the name. "Would this be the 'vicious samurai' you mentioned running into on the way to Kanna, by any chance?"

"The very same," Nasami replied with a smile. "Ran, meet Shimada Kambei, and Shichiroji." The two men nodded to the girl, who bowed.

"So you two are friends of Nasami-_sama_?"

Nasami tried to warn Shichiroji, in order to spare Ran any further embarrassment, but was too late to stop him from opening his mouth.

"I'm a friend," Shichiroji said cheerfully, "Kambei-_sama_'s actually her future husband."

"WHA-?"


	15. Snowfall and Shadows

_Note: Just a little something I wrote for the informal holiday fic challenge for the SAMURAI 7 LiveJournal community. Holidays for me tend to be somewhat bittersweet affairs, so I thought I would continue the trend in my writing. Enjoy..._

* * *

**Snowfall and Shadows**

"Man, it's cold here." Heihachi was visibly shivering as he walked, rubbing his arms and pulling his pilot's cap down over his ears.

"It's because we're so close to the sea," Gorobei explained. "The wind is coming in off the ocean, so small wonder there's a wicked chill."

"I'm glad I can't feel it, then," Kikuchiyo said cheerfully, striding along as though it were a warm summer day.

"Yeah, I guess it helps being in a mechanical body," the street performer admitted. "But you'd think being dead would mean we don't feel cold."

"We remember everything else..." Heihachi murmured. "Why wouldn't we remember being cold?"

"Good point."

Silence for a while.

"Are you sure you know where we're going, Kyuzo-_dono_?" Heihachi asked hesitantly.

"I'm sure." It certainly appeared that way; Kyuzo had never once paused along the way, walking along as though following a path he had followed his entire life.

"I didn't know you'd been here before," Gorobei remarked, studying the fair-haired swordsman.

"I've been here" was all Kyuzo said to that.

A few minutes later, they emerged from the woods and saw a large kyuden in the distance. "Hey, that must be it! Whoa... that place is huge!" Heihachi blurted out.

"Lucky them, huh? Had no idea that Kambei was marrying into money..."

Gorobei gave Kikuchiyo a sour look. "I'm sure that Kambei-_dono_ married Nasami-_dono_ for more than just her wealth..."

Silence for a while.

"So... um... does anyone have any ideas on what we're supposed to do now that we're here?" Heihachi asked, staring up at the large castle, then turning to look around the vast grounds that surrounded it.

Gorobei shook his head. "Got me. But I guess there's a reason we're here... maybe we'll find out."

"Well, we'll never find out just standing around here," Kikuchiyo grumbled. "Hey Kyuzo, which way is in?"

"No need."

"Why?"

Kyuzo didn't respond, but instead pointing up toward one of the balconies facing them. "Look up there."

Heihachi brushed snow off of his goggles and looked closer. "He's right, Kikuchiyo, there's someone up on the balcony."

Gorobei nodded, recognizing the shimmer of moonlight on white hair. "It's Nasami-_dono_..."

"Wow, has she put on weight..."

"It's called pregnancy, Kikuchiyo-_dono_," Heihachi said in exasperation.

Nasami's increased girth, however, was not what caught Gorobei's attention. "Is... is she... crying?"

The four of them looked at one another in dismay. It was rare to see the samuraiko in tears, and for a moment, they were united in their common concern for her.

"It looks like she's talking to herself, but I can't hear her," Heihachi said softly.

They moved closer to hear her better.

"I don't... I don't know if you four can hear me, but..." Nasami bowed her head and sighed. "I just wanted you to know that I wish so much that you were here with us. It's... not been the same without you. It's been a year, but... losing the four of you hasn't become any easier in that year."

"Oh... Nasami-_dono_..." Heihachi whispered sadly.

"And... and I guess what hurts the most is that... I never really had a chance to... to say goodbye. I only hope that... you can forgive me for that."

"There's nothing to forgive, Nasami-_dono_," Gorobei said softly. "We understand."

"They... the farmers have already begun singing songs of you... your-" Her voice choked - "sacrifices. You'd probably laugh to hear them, especially Kikuchiyo. But you're not forgotten..."

Her voice dropped to barely a whisper, but they heard her all the same.

"You'll _never_ be forgotten... _never_."

For a long time, none of them made a sound, except for a very suspicious sniffling from Kikuchiyo.

Then another voice came from inside.

"Nasami?"

Without turning around, the samuraiko called softly, "I'm out here, _anata_."

Kambei appeared on the balcony behind her and wrapped his arms around her. "You shouldn't be out in the cold."

"I'll be fine. I just... needed some fresh air, that's all."

"You miss them, too." His voice was quiet, and she nodded.

"Hey, Kambei-_sama_... oh, you found her." Shichiroji appeared in the doorway, but he paused when he saw Nasami and Kambei in each other's arms.

"Yes, she just needed a little time to herself, that's all."

"Are you all right, Nasami-_dono_?" Katsushiro also approached and stood on the other side of his sensei, looking over at Nasami in concern.

"I'm fine, Katsushiro." Although he could see the tearstains on her cheeks, her eyes were serene, and he turned his eyes toward the sea, and the falling snowflakes.

"The snow... it's so beautiful," he whispered.

"Yes, it is..." Kambei murmured.

"You were thinking of them too, huh?" Shichiroji asked Nasami, standing on her other side and resting his hand on her shoulder.

"I was... just wishing that they were here, Shichiroji-_san_."

"We ARE here! Come on, look at us!" Kikuchiyo shouted, waving his arms.

"They can't see us, Kikuchiyo-_dono_," Heihachi said, his voice resigned. "But at least... now we know why we're here."

"We'll be inside if you need us," Kambei said at last to Nasami, who nodded. "Don't stay out here too long, _anata_."

"I won't... you three go on."

"Man, I almost didn't recognize Katsushiro... he looks older than I remember," Kikuchiyo said in surprise as he watched the young man go back inside.

"At least Kambei-_dono_ looks a little more relaxed," Gorobei remarked. "I guess married life does that to you."

"Well, should we hit the road then?" Kikuchiyo asked the others. "I'm thinking Kanna should be the next stop."

"I guess you're right..."

As Heihachi, Gorobei, and Kikuchiyo turned and disappeared back into the woods, Kyuzo was still staring up at the balcony where Nasami stood, her arms wrapped around herself and her head bowed. Then, the blond assassin carefully climbed up onto the balcony, vaulting over the side, and wrapped his arms around the samuraiko, resting his cheek against her hair.

Then he let her go, and leapt back over the side to land in the snow beneath the balcony.

He allowed himself one last glance back at her.

"I'll never forget you, either," he whispered to her. "_Never_."

Then Kyuzo vanished into the woods after the others, leaving Nasami standing alone with only the falling snow for company.


	16. And the Truth Shall Set You Free

_Note: This little story was done as part of a challenge on a community I recently joined, called 31 Days. The theme for January 30th, the first day I joined the community, was "I'll make you true." And all in a rush, I wrote this. I really do have to admit, it has a certain spark to it._

* * *

**And the Truth Shall Set You Free**

Shimada Kambei stalked angrily to the edge of Kanna Village, climbing the hill that led to the graves of his companions. Once there, he paused before the four mounds that lay there, swords standing proudly atop each of them, and he sighed deeply.

He drew his own katana from the saya at its side, and drove it into the dirt above Kyuzo's grave, then sank down to sit cross-legged before the grave, staring moodily at the sky.

"I am sorry I could not keep my first promise to you," he said softly, gazing up at the moon. "I will never forget that we still have a score to settle... that there was unfinished business between us. But I... I did keep my second promise." He bowed his head and sighed. "I told her that I loved her."

Kambei wearily rubbed his temples, fighting off the headache that was growing there from exhaustion.

"And... I know that she loves me. But I am ronin... so why was it so important to you that I tell her how I feel? We both knew... we all knew that such a thing can never be."

"That's not true," he heard from behind him, and he turned to see Nasami, carried by Shichiroji, making her way up the hill. Carefully, the lanky blond samurai set her on her feet and helped her sit, then he took the sword she handed him, and he drove it into the soil on the grave before taking a seat himself.

"Give me one reason why you should regret telling me the truth," the samuraiko asked, gazing intently at Kambei.

"I am ronin," he said softly, not looking at her.

"That's not good enough."

Angrily he turned to face her. "I have nothing to offer you. No name, no pride, no wealth, no lands... you have everything you could possibly ask for."

"I don't want wealth and land, fortune and fame," Nasami sighed, idly combing her fingers through her long white hair. "I already have all that. What I do not have, and what I want, is you. Just you."

"Your family will never allow it."

"They will."

"You're pretty confident," Shichiroji remarked, glancing over at her. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because I have done enough for them, and never once have I asked for anything. My Clan deals in favors. And they owe me."

Kambei looked away once again. "You deserve better than me, Nasami."

Abruptly she pulled her saya from her obi and as quickly as a striking snake, whacked him across the back of the head with it.

"Damn it, what was that for?" he shouted.

"That was for lying to me."

"I wasn't lying!"

She hit him again, and Shichiroji laughed.

Kambei glared at him. "And what do _you_ find so amusing about all of this?"

"That for once, you've finally found someone more strong-willed than you are. You two are perfect for each other, can't you see that?"

"Shut up," Kambei growled.

"Roji-_san_'s right, you know," Nasami said with a grin.

"Nasami-"

"Well, you either lied then, or you're lying now. So which is it?"

"I'm not lying!" he shouted in frustration.

"So you don't love me?"

"No-"

"You don't want me?"

"No-"

"You don't want to marry me?"

"Nasami-"

"You don't like the way I smell?"

Kambei groaned, knowing full well that Nasami's unique sandalwood scent was one of the things about her that could always distract him from whatever he was doing.

"No-"

"I'm a lousy kisser?"

"God, no!"

"I'm too short?"

"What has _that_ got to do with it?"

"So then why?"

He groaned again and rested his head in his hands.

"I... I just can't."

He lifted his head to look at her, and winced at the pain he saw there in her eyes.

"Do you love me?" There was no avoiding the point-blank question, nor the expression in her eyes.

Kambei sighed and bowed his head again.

"Yes."

"Do you want to marry me?"

"Yes," he said again, his voice softer.

"Do you believe that I love you, and want to marry you?"

"Yes." This time his voice was barely audible.

"Then what's the problem?"

Kambei startled himself by laughing. "You know, I had no idea you were this pushy."

"You'll be forever discovering such things about me," Nasami said cheerfully.

Kambei liked the 'forever' part of that idea.

"Come on, Kambei-_sama_, you know you want this, too," Shichiroji teased. "Besides, I can't be the only one with a beautiful mate, you know!"

"Flatterer," Nasami murmured, elbowing him. Then she looked back at Kambei.

"So?"

"So... what?" he asked her.

"What have we just been talking about for the last ten minutes?" she asked in exasperation.

"You _did_ ask a lot of questions," he told her, a smile playing around his mouth.

"Fine, answer any of them."

"Well..." He reached for her, drawing her into his arms, and kissing her until she could hardly breathe.

"Um, Kambei-_sama_..."

Kambei and Nasami both ignored him, and Shichiroji chuckled.

"Maybe I should just go." Grinning widely, Shichiroji got to his feet and made his way back down the hill.

When she was finally able to come up for air, Nasami gasped, "And that was the answer to which question?"

"Whether or not I love you."

"Ah... and the other questions?"

"Such as whether or not I want you, for example?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Well..."

Things got real quiet after that.


	17. Rain

_Note: I wrote this for a drabble challenge from an LJ of mine. It's been ages since I've added a "Dancing with Snowflakes" tale, and a poem at that. I found this while cataloging stories for the Samuraiko Productions website, having completely forgotten about writing this._

* * *

**RAIN**

She stood alone in the rain, face tilted up toward the sky, the rain falling on her face, clothing plastered to her skin beneath the armor, hair hanging heavily down her back.

Picking up a Mimizuku sword, one of many strewn on the ground after the battle, she thought for a moment. Then, laboriously tracing the edge of the sword in the mud, she wrote:

_Death darkens Kanna  
I wonder, do the gods weep  
As rain falls like tears_

As the rain washed away the poem, she wondered who gods would weep for... those who died... or those who killed.


	18. How Long I Have Dreamed

_Note: I wish I knew what brought this poem out of me, but try as I might, I honestly don't know. I do know that it was inspired by a particular scene I had written in "The Sword of the Soul," toward the very end of the book. (Those of you who've read it will probably guess - those of you whose tastes run along a different type of pairing may interpret it as something else.)_

* * *

**how long I have dreamed**

how long I have dreamed  
of looking down and seeing you in my arms  
of seeing your face at peace  
without all its worries and cares  
its anger and sorrow

but death has made my dream come true  
for you lie still in my arms  
never to move again  
never to fly again

the pain draws me to you  
as the dream falls to darkness  
the cold draws me in

how long I have dreamed  
of embracing you  
of holding you close to me  
without reservation  
or barriers between us

but death has made my dream come true  
for your body is heavy against mine  
broken by gunfire  
broken like my heart

as the dream falls to darkness  
the pain draws me to you  
the cold draws me in

how long I have dreamed  
of touching you  
of stroking your hair and caressing your face  
without fear  
or hesitation

but death has made my dream come true  
for no caress of mine will ever wake you again  
not even the touch of my lips against your own  
in the only kiss we will ever share

the cold draws me in  
the pain draws me to you  
as the dream falls to darkness


	19. Riding the Tide

_Note: It's been a while since I've written a "Dancing with Snowflakes" story, and this little piece came out of a writing prompt thrown to me by an LJ friend. The prompt was "beach," and the location of this story is the Tidal Landbridge that spans the vast bay that separates the lands of the Crane from the lands of the Crab._

**

* * *

Riding the Tide**

Nasami drew in a deep breath, savoring the faint salty tang of the sea breeze, then exhaled again slowly and smiled. The wind coming in off the ocean tossed her long white hair around her face, tugging it free from the confines of her braid.

Kambei rode beside her, his brown hair rustling about his shoulders and his white robes billowing around his body. He pushed his hair back from his face for the umpteenth time, but the breeze seemed determined to keep it in disarray, and he finally gave up.

He thought he'd managed to keep the disgruntled expression off his face, but then he heard Nasami laughing.

"What are you laughing at?" he asked her, frowning slightly.

"You," she chuckled. "Trying so hard to stay composed. Come on, love, enjoy yourself for once!" She gestured expansively around them. "It's a beautiful day, Lady Sun is shining on us, the breeze is fresh, and we'll soon be home. What more could you want?"

He couldn't help smiling at her. "You're right, as usual. Call it me keeping in practice for being stoic."

"Bah." Nasami waved one hand dismissively. "Stoicism is for the Crab, and we left them on the other side of the landbridge. When we arrive on the Crane side, I expect you to smile."

Kambei half-turned in his saddle to look back across the defile of sand that spanned the bay. "How long do you think we have before the tide comes in?"

"Not long," she said, gazing across the bay. "But I'll not pass up a chance to ride faster!" She pulled her hair down from the remnants of its braid and nudged at her horse's flanks with her heels, and the mare tossed its head and began to gallop across the sand.

"Nasami, wait!" Kambei shouted after her, but her laughter floated back to him.

"Come on, _anata_!" she called back to him, and sure enough, Kambei glanced down to see the waters begin to rise over the landbridge.

There was no danger, of course; they were well within riding range of the Crane side of the landbridge, but there was something exhilirating about the sight of her, galloping down that narrow stretch of sand as it was slowly reclaimed by the bay.

With a muttered curse, he quickly braided his own hair behind him to keep it out of his face.

"And stop frowning! And leave your hair down!"

Laughing, he pulled his hair free of the braid and urged his mount into a gallop after her.


	20. Legends

_Note: I had this idea not too long ago and finally decided to just write it. The title, of course, has multiple meanings, and some of you might recognize the references... others may not. Either way, enjoy!_

* * *

**Legends**

"_Ronin_..."

The hissed word made its way along the small group travelling in an informal caravan, and the travellers all stopped. A few were wandering merchants, plying their trade where they went, others were messengers or couriers, three of them were lower-caste warriors acting as bodyguards for the merchants. All of them, however, stared with open disdain at the ronin approaching them. He was a tall man, rather unkempt, his long hair gathered on top of his head, his face and his clothes showing the signs of hard living. In his obi rested two swords, a striking contrast to the rest of his disheveled appearance, for the sayas were immaculately cared for.

The group watched the man approach, and saw he was pushing a small cart. Sitting in the cart was a boy, perhaps three years of age, grinning and waving happily at the caravan, and attached to the cart was a flag.

"_Son for hire. Sword for hire._"

"A common mercenary," spat one of the guards, resting his hand on his own sword. The approaching ronin gave no sign that he'd heard, and continued to make his way toward the group.

In an extremely rude gesture of contempt, all of the caravan members deliberately moved aside, as though trying not to be fouled by his proximity.

All but one.

"Good afternoon, samurai-_san_."

The ronin stopped at the soft female voice that came from beneath the low-slung basket hat that hid most of her face. His eyes moved over the slender form from the top of her hat to the sandals on her feet, then came to rest on the swords she wore in her obi.

"My lady!" one of the merchants said in shock. "He is ronin!"

The woman turned around and lifted the rim of her hat enough to glare at the merchant.

"Wrong - no ronin would care for his swords like that."

The merchant subsided, but it was clear that he still considered the man beneath him.

The woman turned back to the samurai and studied his flag for a moment.

"Your son is for hire. Your sword is for hire. What about you?"

"What about me?" His voice was rough, but quiet and firm.

"Are _you_ for hire?"

"That depends what for."

The guards all hissed and reached for their weapons, but a word from the woman froze them in place.

"HOLD!"

She turned her head to them angrily. "If you cannot control your behaviour, continue on. I will find other, more well-mannered companions."

"It is not right for a woman to travel alone!" one of the messengers protested, but as her hand rested on her sword, the group bowed hurriedly to her and quickly set off again.

As they left, however, both samurai heard "Ronin scum..." drift back toward them.

"I regret any distress that they might have caused you," she said at last once they had gone.

He nodded in response to the obvious sincerity of her apology.

"You didn't answer my question, though," he said, leaning against the cart while the boy watched birds fly by overhead. "What do you want with me?"

She reached into her obi and drew forth a handful of coins, enough for food and lodging for the next several days, and held it out to him. "An hour of your time."

His eyes went from what he could see of her face to the coins and back again. "If it's companionship you want, try one of the cities."

To his surprise, he saw a faint blush touch her cheeks, and then she chuckled. "N-no, no, not that. I would hear a story, samurai-_san_. I collect them."

"You'd pay me that much for me to tell you a story?"

She nodded and waited patiently, her hand still extended holding the coins.

"Take off your hat," he said finally.

At that, she hesitated, and he shrugged. "Fine then. Farewell."

"Wait."

With a sigh, she reached up and used her free hand to remove her hat, revealing long white hair that had been braided around her head, a striking face, and compelling dark blue eyes. For a moment she stared at him defiantly, then she stepped off the road to sit beneath a shady tree, waiting to see what he would do.

His eyes narrowed, then he pushed the cart off the road and took the child out so he could play in the grass.

"You take a great risk with a ronin, my lady," he said, his voice still quiet as he leaned against the tree and stared at her.

"We both know you are no more ronin than I am," she replied, her eyes going to his swords. "Who else would carry a dotanuki?"

The man seemed to tense for a moment, but she only gazed at him quietly, her hands in her lap and her eyes on his face, waiting for her story.

"Is there a particular type of story you are searching for?" the ronin asked at length, but the woman shook her head.

"It is not for me to say where enlightenment might come from."

The man's eyes seemed to spark with sudden interest. "On a _musha shugyo_, are you?"

She nodded, then she sat back and waited quietly.

For a short while, the two sat in silence, and then the man began. Over the next hour, he told her tale after tale, some he'd thought long-forgotten from his own childhood, others that he'd heard during his years on the road. Ancient legends, heroic poems, even the occasional ribald parable - if he could remember it and tell it with any style, he told it to her. She was the perfect audience, listening attentively as though burning his words into her memory to consider them again later in her search for understanding.

After an hour, she rose and bowed to him in thanks. "I cannot thank you enough, samurai-_san_. You have given me much to ponder along my travels." Once again, she drew forth the coins and offered them to him. "Please, accept this as payment for your time and for your knowledge."

The ronin looked over at his child and gestured, who toddled over to the woman and held up his hands. Grinning, she solemnly gave the child the money, and the boy bowed to her. Against her will, she chuckled aloud.

"You'll do well, my little courtier. You'll do well, indeed." She bowed in return to the child, who giggled and clambered back into his cart, then she bowed once more to the ronin before setting her hat back on her head and preparing to leave.

"Before you go, one question, my lady."

His words stopped her and she turned back to face him.

"Yes?"

"I would ask a poem from you. Something for me to ponder along my travels."

Dark blue eyes narrowed, but she sat down once again, opened her pack, and drew forth a sheet of rice paper, an inkstone and a brush.

For several minutes, she sat in silence, meditating, then with great deliberation, she inked a poem onto the page. Sprinkling sand on it to dry it, she then handed it to the ronin with ceremony, who accepted it with equal formality.

"Good luck upon your travels, samurai-_san_," she murmured.

"And to you, my lady."

He waited until she was out of sight before unrolling the scroll to read it.

"_words fall like sunlight  
crane, wolf, cub, joined in a tale  
how will it all end_"

Slowly, he smiled, then tucked the scroll inside his obi, and began to push the cart along the road once more.


End file.
